The Butler Didn't Do It
by Ichabod Ebenezer
Summary: Nth Doctor part 8 of 12. A murder mystery based on Agatha Christie's 'The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side'. A Who-dunnit, you might say. The Doctor and Pandora arrive in Gossington Hall on the night of famous film star Marina Gregg's party to benefit St. John Ambulance. First one body, then more turn up, but what the Doctor really didn't expect were the Ood. Apologies, Agatha.
1. Gossington Hall

"So," the Doctor asked, "How does it compare to the Monk's Tardis?"

Pandora spared him a glance, then returned to staring around her. "His was big, yeah, but now that I see yours, his was so… sterile."

"See? That's what I'm saying. It's all about the décor!" He rushed over to the console. "Did you notice this fiddly-bit? Oh, I've missed the fiddly-bits."

"And you built all this?" Pandora asked, stooping to look for the source of the glow under the console.

"Nah, the Tardis did it herself. She and I are linked in a way that goes beyond psychic. She just seems to know what each of me would like best, and sort of… manifests it."

Pandora nodded and walked around the console. One of the controls caught her eye. It looked like the female end of a headphone jack, but larger, and there was a brass button next to it. "What's this one do?" she asked.

The Doctor looked over. "Dunno. Haven't tried that one yet. Push it."

Pandora pushed it. There was a mechanical whirring, and out of the jack rose a sonic screwdriver. The Doctor rushed over and snatched it up. "Yes! No more slumming around with this technical equivalent of macaroni art." He pulled out the one he had made and held the two side by side.

"They look identical to me," Pandora commented.

"But trust me, they won't be the same inside. No more fiddling with the different settings. Just think what you want. No more worrying about overloading it either. No, into the chute with you," he said. He moved to another station of the console and hit a button. A spot irised open and the Doctor dropped his old screwdriver inside. It closed automatically afterward.

"Tell me that doesn't just have a tube that drops stuff outside."

"You know, I never really thought about it," the Doctor said. He shrugged and moved around the console to pull another lever. The doors closed.

Pandora pushed her button again, but nothing happened the second time. She got a disappointed look on her face. "Aww, I wanted one too."

"Sorry. Only under Time Lord supervision. A lot of tech in this thing that could do some real damage in the wrong hands," the Doctor said.

The disappointment didn't leave Pandora's face, but she left the button alone and wandered around the room some more.

"What's through those doorways?" she asked, indicating the three halls leading off.

The Doctor looked up from his work on the console. "That one," he said, indicating the left-most with a thrust of his chin, "goes to the galley. There's a machine in there that will make any food you can come up with. The one opposite is the wardrobe, with clothing appropriate to any era of any planet I've ever visited, and the middle one leads to the rest of the ship, living quarters, pool, garden and whatnot. At least it would have if I hadn't just jettisoned it all. Give me a bit and I'll recreate the rest of the rooms."

"Recreate them?" Pandora asked.

"Yeah, I had to ditch them to make room for a planet. I'll be up all night recreating these things now. There isn't much down there now; Leela's old room, Zero room and the library, I guess." He laughed. "No matter how desperate, I'd never get rid of all those books."

"Okay, loads of questions, but I'm stowing them for now. Let's back up to the wardrobe. Got anything that would fit me?"

The Doctor smiled broadly. "Got _everything_ that would fit you. You never know where we're going." He threw on the parking brake. "Come here and try a few on. See what you like." He jogged off toward the wardrobe, beckoning her to follow.

"You weren't kidding!" she said when she saw it. She rushed in and started pulling up the sleeves of different items. "How far back does it go?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. I've never been all the way back. Narnia could be back there for all I know. Funny though, with all these clothes in here, most of my companions just chose to 'come as they were'. Things tend to move too quickly to worry about fitting in."

"You kidding me? I spent two years wearing the same basic outfit, and," she lifted the collar of her jacket up and sniffed at it, "ew. I'm going to change clothes, like, a lot!" Pandora laughed.

Pandora lifted the arm of a fur coat and rubbed it against her cheek. "What is this? Bear or something? Bit rough."

"Yeti fur, actually. I wore that ages ago." The Doctor put on a nostalgic smile and pulled it off the rack. "It'll never fit… I was a lot shorter then, and truth be told, a bit wider. Still…" he said and threw it over his shoulders. He winced as his injured arm rubbed against the fabric. He eased into the sleeves and his arms stuck out half-way to the elbow. They both laughed. The coat was so thick that it still seemed to dwarf him despite being short on the arm and extending only to the knee.

"Some day you're going to have to tell me about these past lives of yours," Pandora said, eyes narrowing."

"Absolutely. It's only fair, since I dug into your past, and a good first step in proving my truthful intentions." He started to pull off the coat, but then noticed something in the pocket. He pulled out an envelope and stuck it between his teeth while he pulled off the coat and hung it back up.

He adopted a curious expression as he lifted the flap. A single piece of heavy card stock was inside. He slipped it out of the envelope and turned it over. "It's an invitation," he said. "Marina Gregg is having a fête in honor of St. John Ambulance!"

"Marina Gregg, the actress from those old movies?" Pandora asked. She took the invitation from him and read it. "It's addressed to Doctor Marple. Is that your last name?"

"Doctor Marple! Of course! That's how I got it. He didn't want it to get wet, so he asked me to hold it while he waded into the Nile!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Pandora chuckled. "And you never gave it back?"

The Doctor grimaced embarrassedly. "Didn't seem much point. He never made it to the other side, being the Nile and all… Still! A party is a party, and a Doctor is a doctor. If that's not enough for them, I'll show them the badge on the Tardis door. Member in good standing!" He snatched the invitation back and ran to the console. "And it says plus guest!" he called over his shoulder. He started turning dials and flipping levers. "Dress posh Sixties, because that's where we are going. Gossington Hall, St. Mary's Island, April Seventh, 1962!"

Pandora let out a "Squee!" and dove back into the wardrobe while the Doctor pushed the telegraph lever full ahead and the console crystals rose and fell to the familiar grinding sound of the engines and the more recent crackle of electricity.

* * *

Pandora emerged from the wardrobe with a pile of clothes. "Tell me you've got a shower back there."

"Had, I'm afraid," he said embarrassedly, leaning against the console handrail.

"Oh, please would you recreate it? You said you could, and if creating them all could be done in a night, surely just the one room wouldn't be too much trouble." She paused for breath and smiled pleadingly. "Please?"

The Doctor broke into a smile and winked at her. He turned around and started typing, flipping switches and turning dials. "One shower room, made to order." He flipped a last lever and said to her, "I wish you a light steam."

Pandora ran off down the central corridor, her giddy laughter echoing off the walls.

Twenty minutes later, when she rejoined the Doctor in the console room, she was in a simple green dress with an exposed-back and a band of white across her midsection. She wore high-heeled white boots that came nearly to the knee. She had her hair up in a bun and huge plastic earrings dangled beside her face. "I know that eye makeup was all the rage in the Sixties, but I've decided not to."

"Good on you," the Doctor said.

The Tardis set down and the Doctor flipped a large lever. He activated the monitor, and the manicured lawn of a large manor appeared in the air above the console. "Shall we?"

"Hang on a mo'. Let me go grab my box," Pandora turned to run, but the Doctor caught her arm.

"It's a party. Finger food and lively conversation. If you bring in your box, it's all people would want to talk about, and you won't want that. On the other hand, not even a microbe could make it into the Tardis once the doors are locked. What say, just this once, we leave it behind. Huh?"

Pandora looked nervously toward her box, sitting on the table next to the reading chair.

"And if that's not enough, Obelix will be here to guard it," the Doctor added. Obelix's ears perked up at the mention of his name and his tail shifted from one side to the other.

Pandora smiled. "Okay," she said.

The Doctor held out his arm and Pandora took his elbow. He pulled the doors open, and immediately they were hit by a gale force wind. Sparse rain pelted them, but the dark clouds approaching the island promised a much larger storm to come. The Doctor pulled off his hoodie and draped it over Pandora's shoulders while he turned and locked the Tardis, then the two of them set off toward the front door. The lawn they ran across was littered with white folding chairs that had been knocked over by the wind, and a large tent clung to the ground by three remaining stakes. Tables lay bare except for the rainwater pooling atop them.

They ran to the door and huddled beneath its arch. The Doctor pressed the door bell and began patting down his pockets, looking for the invitation.

An older woman with well-coiffed hair wearing a simple flowery dress and beaded necklace opened the door. She held a tumbler with ice and a deep amber liquid sloshing inside it.

"It's all right dear," she called over her shoulder. "No need to bother the help, I've got it." She turned back to the Doctor and Pandora. "Invitations?" she asked. Her speech was slurred, mostly by age, but exacerbated by drink.

The Doctor held up the invitation, covering the name 'Marple' with his outstretched finger. "The Doctor, and guest. That's us. We're here for the party."

The woman looked the Doctor up and down. She took a few moments to read his t-shirt. It read, 'Why don't hedgehogs just share the hedge?' and depicted a cute cartoonish hedgehog saying, 'No.' Her face slowly brightened into a smile and she started laughing a low rumble of a laugh that turned into a coughing fit. When it was over, she seemed to notice for the first time that Pandora was holding the Doctor's jacket over her head and that they were soaking wet.

"Fairly pissing out there now, isn't it? It was merely a bluster before." she said. "Well, come in, come in. Don't catch your death. Make yourself a drink in the sitting room and set your jacket by the fire." Her eyes lingered on the jacket again. "Or possibly in it," she finished. She turned and marched off in that stiff-but-sturdy way that certain long-lived ladies have.

The Doctor and Pandora stepped inside. Pandora shook the rain off of the Doctor's hoodie while he secured the front doors against the weather outside. They walked to the open doorway that the lady who had greeted them had disappeared through.

The sitting room was warm and inviting. Leather couches sat on the edges of a large Persian rug. Between the many wide and tall windows were portraits of unknown men of various time periods. The most recent was positioned over the fireplace, a military man with a close cropped white beard. Potted plants enlivened the room, and a gorgeous crystal chandelier provided a bright and cheery atmosphere despite the storm approaching through the windows.

The room was filled with people. For the most part, they looked like simple folk, dressed in their Sunday best, the sort who weren't used to dressing to attract attention in public. Freshly shaven and splashed with cologne, most with service medals pinned to their coats, the men beamed with pride, but wore shirts that strained at the buttons. The women wore overstated lipstick and blush, and had either small hats or flowers pinned to their blueing hair. The woman who'd let them in was there, refilling her glass from one of several decanters on a side table. A corked bottle of champagne was chilling next to them. A man in a white tuxedo and holding a flute of champagne stood leaning against the fireplace. He had blonde hair in an obvious comb-over and a thick mustache. He was being talked at by an excited woman Sitting on the couches and smoking were two younger women and a man, all well appointed and suitably bored. One of the women was paging through a fashion magazine and commenting in a dry voice about the model on each page. On the other side of the room was a long table covered in a damp white table cloth and piled high with silver trays of finger foods. Several men were standing at the table eating bits of meat held to crackers by toothpicks. They were talking amongst themselves with the air of people waiting for something else.

The man by the fire noticed the two of them standing in the doorway and used this as an excuse to extricate himself from his companion. He called to the Doctor and Pandora. "Hell of a day for a garden party, wouldn't you say, old chap?" he said in an American accent. "Come and dry off and introduce yourselves."

The Doctor took a step inside, but stopped when Pandora caught her breath and then his arm. She was staring at one of the women on the couch. "Lola Brewster," she said under her breath. "That's Lola Brewster! I've seen 'Greek Holiday' a hundred times! 'Breakfast at Neiman Marcus!', 'Wait until Dusk!' " She turned to the Doctor, now gripping his arm with both hands. "But this is 1962! She hasn't even made that one yet! Oh, Doctor, what do I say to her?"

The Doctor stepped back out of the room and held Pandora by the shoulders. "Ask her what she thinks of Warhol's portrait of her. Tell her the scotch eggs are divine. Tell her it's a shame about her husband, but whatever you do, don't show any interest in her responses, or she'll think you're a fan."

"I _am_ a fan," Pandora urged through gritted teeth.

"See, that's just thinking about it all wrong. Look, if you start feeling like you're in the presence of something special, just remind yourself that she's never been off this planet or travelled in time. She should be the one dying to meet _you_." He lifted her chin.

She smiled and took a deep breath. "Ready," she said.

Pandora handed the Doctor his jacket and the two entered the room as if they owned it. Pandora took a spot on the couch next to Hailey and picked a magazine off the low table between couches. She began to leaf through it as if she hadn't noticed who she was sitting next to.

The Doctor strode straight across the room and up to the blonde man in the tuxedo. He thrust out his hand. "I'm the Doctor."

The blonde man took the Doctor's hand, and cupped his elbow with the other while they shook. "Ardwyck Fenn," he said. "And this delightful young woman is Mrs. Heather Badcock. If you'll excuse me, I need to see to Ms. Gregg." He saluted with his champagne flute and exited quickly.

The Doctor turned to Mrs. Badcock to find her smiling broadly at him. "So exciting, isn't it?" she asked. Heather Badcock was far from a young woman. Mid-sixties, with a rotund figure squeezed into an avocado green dress. "Marina Gregg come to our little village, who'd have thought? And now she lives here, no less. I've seen all her films, of course. No one's a bigger fan."

The Doctor smiled broadly and settled in for a long chat. "Do tell," he said. He spread his jacket across a short screen in front of the fire, never breaking eye contact.

"I've met her before, you know," she said, excited to have an audience. "She'll never remember me, but we met. Years ago now in Bermuda. She was putting on a fund-raiser for St. John then too. She's such a good woman - don't believe anything they say, the jealous harpies - she does so much charity around the world. I remember, I was sick that day in Bermuda. German measles, and I felt horrible, but was that going to stop me from meeting the famous actress? Don't you bet on it. I threw on some makeup and a scarf and no one was the wiser. And she was everything I hoped she would be. I can't wait to see her again. What a laugh it will be when I tell her my story, don't you think?"

The Doctor smiled and nodded through her story, just enjoying the woman's excitement. When she finished, the Doctor said, "I feel certain, Mrs. Badcock, that if she's anything like me, she'll remember you straight away, even after all these years."

Mrs. Badcock blushed with pride. She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a man at the front of the room. He was an American as well, just a hair shorter than average and wearing a tidy v-neck sweater over a button-front shirt and dress slacks. "Mrs. Heather Badcock, Reverend Steele, Mrs. Cherry Brady, Mr. Donald McNeil — Ms. Gregg will see you now," he said.

"That's me," Mrs. Badcock said excitedly. She set her glass of water on the mantle and flattened down her skirt. She touched her hair in several places, and satisfied, she strode across the room to gather with the others who had been called.

The Doctor lifted up his jacket and tested its dampness. He threw it on and approached the woman at the bar table. "Thank you for letting us in, Mrs…?"

"Bantry," the woman said. "Dolly Bantry, widow. That's my husband there," she said, indicating the portrait over the fireplace with a tilt of her drink.

"He must have been something special to the village to have his portrait in Gossington Hall, Mrs. Bantry."

"And he was, my Arthur. He was Colonel to most of the men you see here. Not a one of them wouldn't have died in his place, but that's not how pneumonia works."

"I'm sorry to hear it, ma'am," the Doctor said.

"Oh, pish-posh. We had our time together. This was our manor once, which has more to do with his portrait being here than any respect from the village. But it was too big for me, once Arthur was gone. I moved into the gardener's cottage and sold the manor to Mr. And Mrs. Rudd. Lovely people, not so full of themselves like you'd expect." She looked both ways and leaned in close. "Americans," she said with a knowing nod.

The Doctor put a finger to the side of his nose, conspiratorially. He poured himself a drink and said, "Excuse me. I'd better see what my young companion has gotten up to." Mrs. Bantry continued to guard the liquor as the Doctor headed to the couches.

"What'cha got there?" Pandora asked as the Doctor took a seat next to her.

He sniffed at it. "A spiced rum." He took a sip. "Rather tasty. It seems our hostess has a thing for the Caribbean."

"She does," Ms. Brewster confirmed. "If she's not working on a picture, or buying up new property, she's vacationing by a pool on a tropical island. St. Croix, Key West, Bermuda, it doesn't matter as long as it's sunny and has a fruit you can't find elsewhere."

"Oh, so you two are friends, then?" the Doctor asked. "I never want to assume that just because two people are big in Hollywood that they know each other."

Ms. Brewster gave a sardonic smirk. "You could say we know each other. She once stole my husband away."

"Oh," the Doctor said, embarrassed.

"Awkward," Pandora added.

"Don't worry," Ms. Brewster said with an amused smirk. "I've gotten over it. The truth is, it wouldn't have worked between us, and I got a certain satisfaction a short time later when it didn't work out for her either."

"Well, in that case —" the Doctor started. He was interrupted by a scream in another room of the house.

The Doctor bolted up from the table and ran out of the room as his glass of rum hit the rug behind him.

* * *

The Doctor moved so suddenly no one else had time to react. Pandora watched him go, and one of the men seated with them managed to say, "What the devil?" First Pandora, then the rest of the people in the room stood and rushed out after him.

The Doctor was skidding around a corner and heading into another hallway. Pandora ran to catch up. When she got to where she could see him again, he was running full tilt up a staircase. Pandora bolted after him, followed by the others.

At the top of the staircase was a wide landing. The Doctor rushed up past a group of photographers. When he reached the landing, he took a moment to assess the situation.

The man who had collected people downstairs was there, along with a group of party goers, standing with shocked expressions and holding drinks. There was a man in a tuxedo standing near a grand piano. Based on his position in the receiving line the Doctor guessed it was Marina Gregg's husband, Jason Rudd. Nearby, Marina was standing, elegantly attired, but with a look of horror on her pale face. "I'm the Doctor," he started to say, but then he followed her gaze.

A woman in her mid-forties, wearing a cheap dress and a short haircut that didn't suit her face, was laying on the floor. The Doctor immediately rushed to her side and felt her pulse. "She's still alive, but barely!" he said. "Call for an ambulance!" He leaned in close and listened at her mouth, then started chest compressions. After a count of five, he tilted back her head and breathed into her mouth. When he came up, he was licking his lips with an odd expression on his face. "She's ingested something! hyetheldexylbarboquindelorytate, by the taste of it." He turned to see everyone gathered around and watching him. "Will someone please summon an ambulance?" he yelled.

They broke into action. Mr. Rudd quickly found a phone and dialed. As soon as it connected though, Mrs. Bantry pulled the phone from his hand and began talking to the dispatcher. "Sofia, dear. Dolly here, I'm at Gossington. Poor Mrs. Badcock's had a bit of a spell. Could you send someone around? There's a doctor here. He's performing resuscitation."

A man approached as the Doctor started in on another set of chest compressions. "Can you help her, Doctor?" he asked, concern in his voice.

The Doctor blew another puff of air into her lungs before answering. "I'll do my best. What is your relationship to this woman?" he asked.

"I'm her husband. Badcock, Arthur Badcock," he replied. Mr. Badcock kept turning his hat in his hands as he spoke.

The Doctor continued performing CPR. "You're her husband? But I saw you down in the sitting room. Why weren't you up here with your wife?"

The man's eyes teared up as he watched his wife lay unmoving on the floor. "She's the real fan. I only came along because she wanted me to."

"Mr. Badcock, does your wife regularly use hyetheldexylbarboquindelorytate?" the Doctor asked.

"I've never heard of… that thing before. But the only thing my wife ever takes is aspirin. I've never even known her to drink." He said.

"It's an anti-depressant. Calmo, I think they call it. A mood stabilizer. No? Never?" The Doctor breathed into her lungs again. "No, I suppose she wouldn't. Anyway, she'd have to have taken more than four times a recommended dosage to cause this swift a reaction." He looked around the room.

"Pandora," the Doctor called. She came over quickly while he was puffing air into Mrs. Badcock's lungs again. The Doctor went back to compressions and motioned with his head toward a nearby couch. "There's a glass under there. I think she dropped it when she fell."

Pandora quickly found the tumbler. There was a trail of liquid, and an ice cube slowly melting on the hardwood surface.

"Hold it up where I can smell it," the Doctor told her.

Pandora held the glass under the Doctor's nose while he continued to perform chest compressions on the prone woman's form. He sniffed at it a couple of times, then flicked out his tongue to lick the rim. "Yes, that's the source. Her drink's been poisoned."

There was a terrible crack of thunder signaling the arrival of the storm outside.

The Doctor bent to press his lips against the victim's and blew. When he spoke again, his voice was commanding. "If there's anyone else in the house, gather them here. Lock and bar the front doors until the ambulance arrives. No one is to leave." He pressed his fingers against her throat again, then stood, a sad but resolute look on his face. "One of you," he said, looking around the room, "is a murderer."

Mrs. Bantry spoke into the phone again, "Sofia, tell the ambulance not to hurry themselves. Yes, that's right. I'm sorry too. Goodbye." She hung up the phone.

Marina Gregg, her face ashen, one hand clutching at her throat, finally spoke. "M-my drink," she said.

Mr. Rudd rushed to her side and put an arm around her. "Yes, dear. Of course. Quickly, someone fetch her a drink!"

Marina pushed her husband away. She held out one hand limply, pointing at Pandora. "My drink," she repeated. "That woman spilled her drink, so I gave her mine. I hadn't touched it yet. Dear god, she took the poison intended for me!" Marina swooned and suddenly slumped. Her husband caught her and helped her to a couch.

The Doctor rushed to her side and held one of her hands in both of his. "Marina, this is important. Did you pour your own drink?" the Doctor asked softly. He looked to a side table covered in crystal decanters.

"No, the staff did. I don't know which one," she replied faintly.

"Summon the staff," the Doctor commanded.

Mr. Rudd, satisfied that his wife was cared for, returned to the small table with the phone. He picked up a hand bell and rang it in three quick bursts.

Within moments, a door on the far side of the landing opened and in filed five identical figures in identical and impeccable tuxedos. Each was bald, wrinkled and pinkish, with a mass of tentacles where its mouth should be. Each held, in their white gloved hand, a wooden globe attached to their mouth by a white umbilicus.


	2. Search for a Murderer

"Those are Ood!" the Doctor said.

"Odd? Well… yes, I suppose," Mr. Rudd said, replacing the bell on the table.

"No, you don't understand, this is 1962, and you have an alien waitstaff," the Doctor tried, a look of incredulity on his face.

"Oh, the poor man isn't from our little village. He's never seen anything so alien before," Mrs. Bantry said. "Don't worry Mr. Rudd, you see to your wife. I'll straighten this out with the Doctor." She grabbed him by the arm and led him away. "Come along and bring your young lady-friend. I'll explain everything."

The Doctor followed along limply as she led him down the staircase. "She's not my… This is impossible…" he said. "Pandora?"

Pandora hurried to follow along.

Mrs. Bantry stopped just down the stairs and out of earshot and turned to face them. "Since you aren't from around here, you wouldn't have heard, but some thirty years ago a ship like no other crashed on our little island. You called them aliens, Doctor, but I suspect they aren't simply foreign to us, but from another world entirely." She pointed upward to emphasize her point. "This was back when my husband and I lived in the manor. The pilot of this ship was in a bad way and his crew were dead. We'd never seen anything like them before, but we summoned Dr. Marple to see if he could help.

"When he arrived, the alien pilot was still alive. He kept trying to say something to us, but of course no one could understand him. The doctor couldn't make heads or tails of his circulatory system, and he didn't know if any of the pain-killers that he had might just do the poor beast in, but needle and thread had to be the same whatever planet you come from, so he got to sewing. For all the good it did in the end.

"While he set to his grizzly work, the Colonel and I searched the ship for more survivors. We came upon a locked door, but we heard movement behind it. We couldn't open it ourselves, so we called upon St. John Ambulance, and then the whole village knew about it. Soon all the strongest young men from the village were taking a turn at the door and finally we got it open.

"We discovered the creatures you just saw. They were strapped into benches, which must have protected them during the crash. And they were holding their brains in their hands. Some of the younger women who hadn't yet seen what war could be like, fainted dead away. A clever cobbler named Smith came up with those protective globes so that their brains wouldn't be injured and so that no one would have to see them.

"Well, they followed us around, and they didn't seem to know how the ship worked, but they were eager to help. The Colonel would tell them to fetch something and they'd run to do it. We didn't know what else to do, so we put them to work. We knew what the government would do to them though, so the village agreed that we had to hide them. We buried their ship and dressed them up. They don't speak, but they seem to understand English alright. We couldn't tell them apart, so the Colonel had me sew Greek letters onto each of them. They've learned to respond to this like a name. There's Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta and Epsilon." She paused for a while, seeming to go over it in her mind, in case there was anything else she forgot. "Yes. When my husband died and I decided to sell the manor, it was a condition of the sale that whoever bought it would have to keep them on. Mr. and especially Mrs. Rudd took to them immediately, and I knew they would be cared for."

She breathed deeply and clasped her hands. "That's it. Now you know everything about our unique waitstaff. Now that you are in on our island's big secret, we shall have to ask that you swear to keep it. If the word were to get out, I feel certain someone would get it in their mind to save us from them."

"Oh, you can count on us, Mrs. Bantry," the Doctor said with a great big smile. "Pandora could keep secrets professionally, and I don't do a lot of talking. Tell me, have you ever noticed any redness around the waitstaff's eyes, Mrs. Bantry?"

"Redness? No, I can't say that I have. Why, is it important?"

"Never mind, forget I mentioned it. You'd have remembered if you'd seen it, I'm sure."

* * *

They returned to join the others up on the landing. One long roll of thunder was accompanied by several flashes of lightning that felt close by. Someone had thought to cover Mrs. Badcock's body with a blanket.

The Ood were all still just standing in a row, holding their orbs in one hand. Pandora could now see the Greek letter patch on the breast pocket of each one. So far as she could see, this was the only difference between them. The Doctor walked straight up to question them. "Now, which one of you made the lady's drink?"

The Ood in the center inclined his head slightly. The Doctor stepped over in front of him.

"Gamma, what did you put in her drink?" the Doctor asked. The Ood inclined his head again, but was otherwise silent.

"Maybe yes or no questions would work better," Pandora suggested.

"Ssh, Pandora," the Doctor said over his shoulder. "Rum, citrus and syrup over crushed ice. So you were making daiquiris. Oh, I love a good daiquiri!"

"Yes, that's right," Marina said, stunned. "But how did you-?"

The Doctor ignored her unfinished question, instead addressing the Ood again. "Does the lady often ask you to make daiquiris for her?"

"Are you suggesting that —" Mr. Rudd started indignantly.

"Ssh," the Doctor repeated, and Mr. Rudd found himself quieting. "I'm trying to establish his familiarity with the drink. Perhaps he accidentally added the wrong ingredient, but no. It seems it's been her favorite lately." He went silent, just looking at Gamma and nodding occasionally.

The Doctor chuckled and turned to Pandora. "He does like to talk, doesn't he. Enjoys the sound of his own thoughts, you might say."

"Doctor, a woman is dead here," Pandora reminded him in an urgent whisper.

"Yes. Of course," the Doctor said, forcing a serious expression. "Gamma is certain that he made your drink just as normal, Mrs. Rudd. But that doesn't mean that the bottles weren't tampered with."

"Doctor, how are you sure he's not lying?" Pandora asked.

"An Ood, _lie_? If you'd spent any time around them, you'd know how laughable that is. The Ood are beyond reproach. Though they are easily susceptible to mental control, you can always tell by the red eyes." He raised his voice. "Everyone put down your drinks. One of these bottles may have been poisoned."

One of the men spit a mouthful of his drink back into his glass and set it down. A few simply let go of their glasses, letting them fall to the floor and shatter. The rest started placing their drinks on tables. The Ood instinctively left their places in line to clean up.

The Doctor let them go about their business and walked to the serving table. He pulled the glass stopper off of each decanter in turn and sniffed at the contents. He seemed uncertain of one or two and tasted them as well. In the end he dismissed them all. He turned and found Pandora there. "The serving containers are clean, but don't tell anyone. I want them all alert for anything they may see or hear. Someone here is a murderer, and if Marina was the intended target, they will no doubt try again."

"If the poison was in the drink, but it's not here, then how…?" Pandora asked.

"Either the drink was poisoned after it was mixed, or the glass itself was poisoned first. I think that the glass itself is an unlikely target though. If the poisoner intended to kill Ms. Gregg, there would be no way to be certain she'd have drunk from that particular glass until after her drink was in it. We should separate everyone who had access to her glass and interview them individually." He leaned in closer, watching over Pandora's shoulder as Mr. Rudd administered to his wife. "You are a fan of Ms. Gregg, Pandora, are you not?"

"Not as much as Lola Brewster, but, yeah."

"Tell me, what do you know about her husband?"

Pandora started to look behind her, but stopped herself half-way there. She turned back to the Doctor and spoke quietly. "Well, I can tell you he's number five. He's a producer or a director or something, but I've never paid much attention to that."

"That's quite a lot of marriages. And she was married to one of Lola Brewster's husbands as well?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes… Her third husband, I think. He was an actor too, Robert Truscott. He did a lot of westerns. But like I said, I'm not super caught up on her private life," Pandora said.

"That's alright. I was more interested in this one anyway. Jason Rudd. Is it possible that he administered the poison? Killing someone in front of a crowd like this is very risky, and also rather dramatic, if you catch my meaning."

"Look, Doctor, I may not know much about him historically, but I've been watching him here today, and he seems to genuinely care for her. I'd even go so far as to say he's in love. The way he looks at her when no one else is paying attention to him…"

The Doctor nodded. "That's as good as sworn testimony in my book. Still, I'd like to get him alone and find out what he saw."

He stepped out into the middle of the room, and began surveying his surroundings. He was standing right where Marina had been originally. He mentally placed Mr Rudd just off to the right, and Ms. Zielinsky just behind him. He imagined Mr. Preston bringing the greeting line of people up the stairs. He looked out past them to see two tall thin windows framing a painting, possibly a Rafael, of the Madonna and child. She was holding him up in the air and the two were smiling happily, their halos just touching. The imaginary line of people approached him, mingled for a bit, then moved off to the left and behind.

The Doctor, having completed his mental model, looked up at the real people standing around him. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have ruled out any chance of accidental poisoning, or inadvertent overdose. I need you to separate into small groups of three to four."

The Doctor looked to the Ood. "Alpha, would you please take the mayor and the vicar to a comfortable room nearby. You, the reporter. Sorry, I didn't catch your name. Would you go with Beta and Mr. Fenn to another. Gamma, please escort Mrs. Brady, Mrs. Rudd and Ms. Zielinsky to a third. Delta, I'll need you to go with Mr Rudd, Mr. McNeil and Mr. Preston to another. Epsilon, please take Ms. Brewster, Mrs. Bantry, the mayor's wife and Mr. Badcock to yet another."

"I'd like to stay with my wife until the ambulance arrives, if that's alright, Doctor," Mr. Badcock said numbly.

"Yes, of course. How insensitive of me. Oh, and the photographers. Pick a group to go with."

"And just who put you in charge?" asked the mayor.

"Mr. Mayor, I am an investigator of some skill, capability and experience." He pulled out his psychic paper and showed it to the man. "I am a Doctor of Criminology, and have consulted with the constabulary on many occasions. Ever heard of the Hangman of Bastanchury Road?" he asked.

"No," the mayor began.

"That's because I solved the case before it hit the papers. Now, I will come around to collect your stories of what you saw here this afternoon. Before the evening is out, we will discover this murderer!"

The lights dimmed momentarily as the windows blazed with a hot white light, and thunder cracked deafeningly outside.

* * *

The Doctor wanted to check the alcohol decanters in the downstairs sitting room while the other party guests were taken to the various rooms and given time to settle. When they passed the double doors at the front of the house, the Doctor pulled out his sonic and locked them securely before proceeding to the sitting room.

"Doctor," Pandora said while he was sniffing at one of the stoppers, "Have you ruled out Mr. Badcock already? It seems suspicious to me that he didn't want to be up there with his wife."

"Yes, I must admit that that is odd, but it also removes him from suspicion. Even if he had motive, he had no opportunity. Consider his options." The Doctor paused to sniff another decanter. "She didn't have a glass when she left here. In fact the glass she had is sitting over there still, on the fireplace mantle," he said, pointing. "It's possible that he could have paid someone up there to poison his wife while he stayed down here with his alibi, but that's not what happened. The killer poisoned Marina Gregg's drink. What happened then? Did the killer cause Mrs. Badcock to spill her drink and then trust that Marina would give her own drink to the victim? Without ever sipping from it herself? No it makes no sense. It's more likely that Marina was the intended victim, and Mr. Badcock would have no motive there. We should let the man grieve in solitude." He set the last stopper back in its decanter. "No, it was a long shot, but nothing here is poisoned either. Let's go interview the first group."

"Yeah, about that. Why those small groups? Why not individuals?" Pandora asked.

"You ever hear that logic problem where you have to weigh nine metal cubes to figure out which one is different?" the Doctor asked as he started walking.

"Sure, you weigh them in groups, and once you know the group with the odd weight, it's quicker to find the individual cube," she replied.

"Exactly. We've got a murderer, a potential victim, and statistically speaking at least one witness who saw something useful. I want to see how their behavior changes as I mix up the groups."

"I don't get it. In the logic problem you don't mix up the groups," Pandora said.

"Yes, well, our problem is a bit more complicated. We've got one cube that weighs too much, another cube that weighs too little, and a bunch of cubes that may or may not be magnetic. The point is, observing their behavior in small groups will tell us something important about the individuals in those groups. I'm going to talk to each of them individually, but while I am, I want you to play your people-watching game on the other ones. Let me know if anything sticks out or strikes you as strange."

"Okay, I get it," Pandora said as they arrived at the first room. The Doctor opened the door and the two of them stepped inside. Pandora closed the door behind them.

The mayor, the vicar and the female photographer were in the room along with the Ood, Alpha. The Doctor rubbed his hands together, looking around at the room. There had been an animated conversation going when they opened up the door, but now everyone was looking at the Doctor with nervous anticipation.

"Let's start off with names. I'm the Doctor, this is Pandora. You all know Alpha… apparently. And you are?" he asked the Mayor.

"Julian Bledsoe," the mayor said, sticking out his hand and grinning, probably by reflex. The Doctor took the proffered hand and shook it. "Out of curiosity, if you didn't know my name, how did you know I was mayor?"

"The look of a politician is universal," the Doctor said and turned to the vicar.

"John Steele. I've been vicar in St. Mary's since before the war. I knew Mrs. Badcock well, and it's my great shame that I didn't think to perform resuscitation myself. It may have made the difference." The vicar kept his thin hands clutched in front of him.

"Don't beat yourself up about it. Shock affects us all, and her death could only have been prevented by the timely arrival of the ambulance." The Doctor turned to the photographer.

She had a business card at the ready, having pulled it from a pouch at her side during the other two introductions. She handed it to the Doctor. "Margot Bence, Lifemode Studios."

"Excellent, lovely," the Doctor said, giving the card a quick glance and sticking it into his hoodie pocket. "I think I'll speak to the mayor first. Mr. Bledsoe, if you could come over here please, and if the rest of you could give us a bit of privacy, thank you."

The mayor, Pandora and the Doctor stepped over into one corner of the large room, while the photographer and the vicar moved into the one opposite. Alpha stood alongside one wall, at attention, with his orb in one gloved hand the entire time.

"Mr. Bledsoe, if you could just go over the events of this afternoon as you saw them, please," the Doctor said.

"Well, when my wife and I arrived, the Greeks were busy pulling all the food in from outside. You see, the weather had just started to turn, but it was obvious it was going to get much worse. We were led into the sitting room and got to meet some of the Americans. Movie stars and producers and the like, you know. I was quite comfortable in such company, but my wife loves the pictures, particularly the romantic ones. She's quite a fan of Lola Brewster and Marina Gregg both. She knew we were going to meet Ms. Gregg, but we were suddenly in the company of Ms. Brewster, and I'm afraid she was a little star-struck," the Mayor said.

"Yes, and closer to the time of the actual murder?" the Doctor said with more politeness than impatience. Pandora was listening to their conversation, but she was watching the vicar and the photographer across the room.

"But that's just it, you see? I didn't realize that a murder had taken place until you announced it. When we were called, we ascended the staircase and Ms. Gregg greeted us very graciously. She knew who we were, which was nice. She and her husband offered us a drink, and we talked for a while. The vicar came up next and there were a few people already there, so we got out of the way and joined them. Mr. Rudd and Ms. Gregg spoke to the vicar for a while, then he came over to join us while they greeted the next people. I didn't pay them any notice really until Mrs. Badcock spilled her drink. She made a fuss about cleaning it up, and how she'd managed to ruin her dress as well. Ms. Gregg said nonsense, and that the staff would take care of it and daiquiris don't stain, and then she insisted that Mrs. Badcock take her drink. She had the same sort, and she hadn't yet touched it. The Greek that was there, I don't remember which one it was, mopped up the spot with some towels and then left. We went back to talking and I'm afraid the next thing I noticed was when Mrs. Badcock slumped out of her chair. My wife screamed, and you came running. That was it."

"Did Mrs. Badcock seem like she wasn't feeling well?" the Doctor asked.

"I really wasn't paying attention. I suppose at some point someone pulled out a chair for her, so she must not have been entirely well, but I'm afraid I didn't see."

"Did you know Mrs. Badcock before this afternoon?"

"I'd seen her around," the mayor shrugged. "Mrs. Badcock was the sort you didn't see much until she started complaining about the pipes or something. She never noticed when you got something done, she'd only notice what you haven't done yet, or didn't get right."

The Doctor nodded his understanding. "Mr. Bledsoe, being responsible for the town's well being and listening to the complaints of all the Badcocks out there must be very stressful. Do you ever take anything for the anxiety?"

"Well, I have the occasional drink, like any other red-blooded Englishman, but never to excess, if that's what you're implying. The truth is the job isn't all stressful. I enjoy solving the problems of day-to-day life."

"I see," the Doctor said. "Thank you Mr. Bledsoe. You've been most helpful. I may have some follow-up questions after talking to the others, but we're done for now. Could you send the vicar this way? Thank you."

The mayor walked across to where the vicar and the photographer were still speaking. Pandora leaned in toward the Doctor. "What was that about his drinking?"

"Nothing. I don't care about his drinking habits. I was trying to determine whether he has a prescription for hyetheldexylbarboquindelorytate. Whoever killed Mrs. Badcock had access to the drug, and I don't think you can just pick it up at the local chemist. Did you notice anything peculiar about the other two?"

"Well, I can tell you that the photographer isn't a local. She and the vicar didn't know each other," Pandora informed him.

"No," the Doctor confirmed. He pulled out the business card briefly and showed it to Pandora. "The address for her studio is in London."

Just then, the vicar approached.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Steele," the Doctor said. "Could you please tell me, from your perspective, what happened up on the landing around the time of the murder?"

"Are you quite sure it was murder, Doctor? I can't imagine anyone had it out for poor Mrs. Badcock," the vicar said.

"It can be no doubt that it was murder, but it does appear that Mrs. Badcock was not the intended target. Ms. Gregg was. But the question, please, vicar, what did you see?"

The vicar looked troubled. "I climbed the stairs, Ms. Gregg and her husband greeted me, very graciously. They offered me a drink, but I declined. I didn't really have much to say. I don't go to movies much, I don't even have a telly. I'm just here to support St John Ambulance. Heather - Mrs. Badcock was next, so I made room and joined the mayor and his wife, while she spoke to Ms. Gregg. I didn't see her spill her drink, but I heard her apologizing for it, and then Ms. Gregg insisted that she take her own drink, while the Greek cleaned it up."

"I'm sorry, the Greek?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes, the um," the vicar said. He looked over his shoulder at the Ood, then turned his back to him and wiggled his fingers in front of his mouth to pantomime the oral tentacles. "Waitstaff," he finished. "We call them Greeks on account of the letters they wear. I didn't see which one it was."

"Alright. And what about when Mrs. Badcock collapsed?"

"Ms. Gregg and her husband had moved on to speak with Cherry Brady by then. It looked like Heather was having a sort of dizzy spell. Mr. Rudd's assistant brought her to a chair and helped her sit. Soon after that, she just sort of spilled out of it, and lay motionless. As I said before, I wish I would have done something, but I just stood there. I heard someone scream, but it was far away. I could only see her eyes. Nothing else seemed real. The next thing I knew, you were running past, and it was like the world started moving again."

The Doctor just nodded. "Reverend, you've performed your share of funeral services, you've spent time with the dead and with the grieving. People come to you with their troubles and their sins. Do you know of anybody who was taking something for depression or anxiety? Do you, yourself, ever take anything to help cope with other peoples pain?"

The vicar straightened up to his full height. "No sir, I do not. The Lord is my strength. And I know of no one reliant on chemical substitutes for His grace."

"I'm sorry, reverend, you understand I had to ask. If you would be so good as to send Ms. Bence my way? Thank you."

The vicar turned and left, and the Doctor leaned toward Pandora. "Anything?"

"No. Nothing. It's hard to pick a story for the Mayor. He seems to change it quite often."

The Doctor smiled. "Like I said. The look of a politician is universal."

Margot Bence joined them. She was a woman with raven hair in a pixie cut with a short felt jacket and short skirt who had the strap of a camera over one shoulder and the strap of a small leather pouch around the other.

"Ms. Bence. Someone who sees things professionally, and shares the things she sees. Tell me, what did you see?" the Doctor asked.

Ms. Bence wore a bored expression. "A lot of the usual. A couple rich fools showing off their opulence and condescending to the common man. I didn't get any photographs of the murder taking place, if that's what you were hoping for."

"Hope springs eternal. Still, perhaps you saw something, even without your camera up, that may turn out relevant, if you'll indulge me," the Doctor prompted.

"Marina Gregg was at the top of the stairs with her next ex-husband. She needed three photographers where one would normally do, because she wants to pick through the photographs for just the right one. Then a stream of worshippers ascended the stairs to stroke her ego. One of them, an older woman, spilled her drink and received another, but she was out of shot when she fell. I knew something was going on, because someone screamed, but I didn't know what it was until you rushed past and yelled for an ambulance." She shrugged.

"You don't have any particular love for Ms. Gregg, do you?" the Doctor prompted.

"In my line of work, you see a lot of celebrities. You learn quickly to see past the glamour, and at that point, an ugliness can be exposed, and from what have seen, Marina Gregg is uglier than most."

"Some would say that her charity work is proof that she's a good person," the Doctor argued.

Margot scoffed. "Tell that to her adopted children."

"I wasn't aware that she had children," the Doctor said. He looked sidelong at Pandora for some confirmation, but she shrugged.

"She adopted three children, took them away from families that were more fruitful than they were well off, because she believed she couldn't have kids of her own and she desperately wanted to be a mother. But she soon tired of them, and when she later became pregnant, she sent them away," Margot told them. Then she added, "At least that's how the story goes."

"Ms. Bence, you aren't local, and you have no connection to St. John Ambulance. If you dislike her so much, why did you accept the job here?" the Doctor asked.

"The job came through Mr. Rudd's assistant, this Zielinsky woman. I've made a name for myself because I find interesting angles to shoot, and I have an eye for just the right timing, just when that eyebrow crooks, or the moment the smile parts to show teeth. She insisted, and before I knew that Mr. Rudd was married to Ms. Gregg, I'd signed the contract."

"I see. Ms. Bence, let me be frank. The fashion industry is known for rampant drug use, and as this death is drug related, I must ask. Do you ever take Calmo?"

"Doctor, I will be equally frank. I've taken a lot of things in my time, many of them banned substances, but all of them have been uppers. I've never had any need for a downer like Calmo, and I certainly didn't bring anything of the sort here."

"Thank you Ms. Bence. That'll do for now." Margot began to walk away, and the Doctor raised his voice to speak to the room in general. "Please remain in this room. Send Alpha out for me if you require anything. Remember that there is a murderer out there, so wandering about isn't safe. Pandora, with me please."

He stepped out of the door and held it for her, closing it behind her. Out in the hallway again, the sounds of the storm raged loudly outside. Rain pelted the windows while the wind howled vocally. The occasional flash of light was followed nearly immediately by a loud crack of thunder. "You knew nothing about Marina's children?" the Doctor asked Pandora.

"I'm sorry Doctor, I just didn't follow her private-life. I remember, vaguely, that she had some sort of tragedy and backed out of a film. She didn't work for several years afterward. That's really all I know," Pandora said.

"Hmm. Perhaps it's time we speak with someone who _has_ been following her private-life. The reporter," the Doctor said.

Pandora caught him before he got to the door. "Doctor, you know that Ms. Bence was lying about her reasons for taking the job, right?"

The Doctor studied Pandora with a thoughtful expression, then turned without a word and opened the next door, and the two of them stepped inside. The reporter was there conducting an interview with Ardwyck Fenn, and another one of the photographers looked on, while the Ood, Beta was standing with his back to the wall, nearby.

"Gentlemen, I'm afraid I must interrupt your interview to conduct one of my own. If you would step over here — I'm sorry, I still don't know your name…"

The reporter flipped his notebook and approached them, hand outstretched. "Dunn, sir. Silas Dunn with the Herald," he said. He shook hands, first with the Doctor, then with Pandora. "How about a little tit-for-tat? I'll answer your questions about the murder, and you answer my questions about the man who's going to solve it. Eh?"

"I'm afraid that's going to have to wait. If Ms. Gregg was truly the target, the murderer will likely try to finish the job, so time is of the essence. Now, briefly tell me what you saw this afternoon at the top of the landing."

"Well, I was one of the first to be called up. They greeted me and offered me a drink. I informed them that I was on duty. You see, the Herald made a substantial donation to St. John Ambulance to get me this invitation. The two of them agreed to grant me an interview after the fête, and so I stood aside and took notes on who else attended." He flipped his notebook open again, and went back several pages. "First it was the mayor and his wife, then the vicar. Shortly thereafter, Ardwyck Fenn," he indicated the other man in the room with the eraser end of his pencil, "joined them at the top of the stairs, but he mainly talked to Mr. Preston and Ms. Zielinsky. Then it was Mrs. Badcock, the victim, and Mrs. Brady and Mr. McNeil. Now, Ms. Gregg had finished talking to Mrs. Badcock and had moved on to Mr. McNeil when Mrs. Badcock's elbow was jostled and she spilled her drink."

"Wait, her elbow was jostled? By whom?" the Doctor asked.

The reporter found the line in his notebook where he'd written it down. "Yes, definitely jostled. I didn't write down who did it, but there was a lot of milling about. Who could say who did it?"

"Okay, go on."

He found his place in his notes again and continued. "Mrs. Gregg says, 'Don't worry about it at all. Daiquiris don't stain. We'll have it cleaned up in a moment, Delta please? Now here. Take my drink. I had a daiquiri as well, but I haven't touched it yet.' The Greek patted down her dress, then the floor and left with the soaked towel. The couple of the hour greeted Mrs. Cherry Brady. Ms. Zielinsky got a chair out for Mrs. Badcock and she sat with her drink. No more than two minutes later, she fell out of the chair. She looked dead to me. Then the mayor's wife screamed." Mr. Dunn closed his notebook. "And that's when you come in."

"Did you notice whether Mrs. Badcock was feeling unwell before they got her a seat?"

"Sorry sir, I remember it like I wrote it. I was mostly watching Mrs. Gregg and who she was talking to at the time. The locals like it when their name gets in the article. I mentioned the bit with the Greek, but I didn't much notice Mrs. Badcock, they were already done with her."

"I see. Now, on a different subject, you've followed Ms. Gregg's life and career for some time, correct?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes sir, I like to ask a few questions that'll get the readers talking, so I've got to know a bit about the celebrities," the reporter said with some pride.

"What can you tell me about her children then?"

"Oh, that's a sad subject indeed, sir. She went through three husbands, always wanting children. First there was an estate agent, name of Alfred Beadle. She made it big shortly into their marriage and suddenly he wasn't enough for her. Then she married a foreign Prince from one of those tiny European countries. That didn't last very long either, and she married another actor, Robert Truscott. When she realized they couldn't have children either, she adopted three underprivileged children; two boys and a girl. When her marriage to Truscott fell apart, she latched on to the children for a time, but she found love again with the playwright, Isidore Wright, and at last she was pregnant. But the baby came out wrong. Too early by a few months, it was an imbecile and deaf or something. Had to be kept in a hospital. After that she had this breakdown, and started in on drugs. She got fired from set and lost a few roles. Didn't work at all for, well, must be a decade." He shrugged. "Sad, really."

"And what happened to her adopted children?" the Doctor pressed.

"Well, she sent them off to schools, didn't she? One went off to Australia, another came here to England, the other stayed in the States. She put money in accounts for them through childhood. At some point they changed their names to keep reporters away. But all that was twenty years ago or more, and no one really knows what happened after that."

"Alright. That's it for now," the Doctor said.

"You won't forget about our little interview, now, will you?" Mr. Dunn asked with a sly shake of his finger.

"Top of my priority list, right behind this little murder thing," the Doctor said.

Mr. Fenn swapped spots with the reporter then.

"Mr. Fenn, why did you need to attend to Ms. Gregg right when you did?" the Doctor began.

Mr. Fenn coughed apologetically. "I didn't need to, I must confess. I was just trying to get away from that insufferable boor of a woman. I know it's horrible to speak ill of the dead, but that's how I felt at the time."

"I see. You must have been very disappointed to see her again so soon, up on the landing. What did you see when she came up?" the Doctor asked.

"Well, as you can imagine, I did my best to avoid her, so I had my back to her most of the time. I remember that she didn't know what to ask for when she was offered a drink, and Ms. Gregg suggested a daiquiri. Then she was telling that same dull story of having met Ms. Gregg before. As if she would possibly remember. She probably met a hundred fans that day, and that day was just one of hundreds like it. I looked around again when I heard the glass hit the rug. Of course it had to be that woman, and Ms. Gregg was an absolute angel about it. She gave up her own drink, and didn't show how put out she was at all."

Mr. Fenn sighed deeply and knitted his eyebrows in concern. "Of course, you know how it ended up, but this is what I was thinking at the time. You must understand, I had no idea what was really happening. Mrs. Badcock sipped at her drink and said it was lovely. Ms. Gregg went on to greet another gentleman, but I saw that Mrs. Badcock was looking a little dizzy. I remembered that she had been drinking water downstairs, had made a point of it, actually, and I assumed she just wasn't used to the alcohol. I pointed her out to Ella Zielinsky because I was afraid of getting stuck talking to her again, and Ella rushed over to get her a chair to sit on. Ella had only just gotten back to me when Mrs. Badcock rolled out of the chair and onto the floor."

The Doctor nodded. His eyes darted back and forth as he fit this new information in with what he already knew. "Mr. Fenn, do you take the medication Calmo?"

"I do. Or, well, I have. You'd be hard-pressed to find an actor in Hollywood that doesn't have a prescription," Mr. Fenn admitted.

"Did you bring some with you today?" the Doctor asked, excitement in his eyes.

"No, I didn't, but don't you see? I wouldn't need to. I'm certain that every medicine cabinet in this manor has some Calmo in it. Both Ms. Gregg and her husband take it. It's as common as aspirin where we're from."

The Doctor took an involuntary step backward as he processed this. "Then, anyone in the house could have gained access to it."

"I'm afraid so," Mr. Fenn said with a shrug.

The Doctor walked toward the door as if in a daze. Pandora followed him out and before closing the door, stuck her head back in. "You should stay in here. Send your Greek for anything you need. Remember that there's a murderer out here somewhere and you're safer together." Then she closed the door and turned to the Doctor.

"Are you alright, Doctor?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "I was certain that once we discovered the source of the poison, it would be obvious who the killer is. Even if you discount the people who wouldn't know they kept it — and you can't because, who doesn't look through the medicine cabinet when you use somebody's bathroom? But even if you did, that still leaves half a dozen suspects." He paced for a while, then stopped and looked Pandora in the eye. "We'd better talk to Ms. Gregg and Ms. Zielinsky."

The Doctor opened up the door to their room and let Pandora enter first. The Ood, Gamma, was standing on his own against the wall, as usual. Mrs. Brady was sitting on her own, crocheting, while Ms. Gregg and Ms. Zielinsky were speaking quietly over a table on the far side of the room.

"Mrs. Brady, Cherry, isn't it?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes, Doctor, that's right," she said, smiling up at him and folding her crocheting.

"Cherry, did you see anything unusual this afternoon, up on the landing?" the Doctor asked.

"Well, I don't know what unusual _is_ for such occasions. I watch a lot of movies while my husband is at work, and I've imagined being up on screen with them. In far-away places, in times long gone, in a forbidden romance." She smiled and blushed deeply. I've always imagined what it would be like to be famous and to meet my fans. But it wasn't like that at all. I always thought that someone who spent their life acting the big parts would be able to pretend engagement and interest, but I suppose after thousands of fans, it gets to you."

"What do you mean, Mrs. Brady?" the Doctor asked.

"Well, I waited my turn at the top of the stairs behind Mr. McNeil. I was so excited to be this close to Ms. Gregg that I was sure everyone could hear my heartbeat. But then, while Heather Badcock was speaking, this expression came over Ms. Gregg. To be more accurate, it was more like a lack of expression. She just sort of stared blankly off into the distance, not at Heather. Not really at anyone, I think. It reminded me of something."

"Yes?" the Doctor prompted.

"Well, it made me think of a line from that old Tennyson poem, 'The Lady of Shallot'." She closed her eyes for a moment, then began reciting.

Out flew the web and floated wide-

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

"The doom is come upon me," cried

The Lady of Shalott.

Mrs. Brady looked up at the Doctor. "I know the poem doesn't describe her face, but that's how I always imagined it. That look the Lady wore when she realized her doom was at hand."

"Ah, yes," the Doctor nodded. "Always loved Alfie's poetry. That was from his Camelot collection. I really should never have taken him there. Anyway, after that, did you see anything else?"

"After that, she sort of snapped out of it. She got the Greek to pour a drink for Heather and moved on to Mr. McNeil. Heather just sort of stood around for a bit, not knowing what to do. I do suppose she was rather in the way, but do you know what the odd thing was? I just about think she spilled her drink on purpose."

The Doctor was silent for a while, considering this. "Thank you, Mrs. Brady, that was most helpful."

He took Pandora over to a corner and spoke with her in hushed tones.

"Doctor, didn't the reporter say that she was jostled?" Pandora asked.

"That's just what I was thinking. But it's been established that Mrs. Badcock wasn't used to drinking. And perhaps he didn't actually see her get jostled. Maybe he just saw her arm fly out and he made the assumption."

"I guess that makes sense. Neither one of them seemed like they were lying, or covering something up…"

The Doctor opened his mouth to say something, then turned suddenly and said, "Ms. Zielinsky, would you join us?"

Ms. Zielinsky left the table and walked across the room toward them.

"It's Ella, correct? Ella, what is the nature of your job here?" the Doctor asked.

"I'm Mr. Rudd's personal secretary. I schedule and keep track of his meetings. I approve his agenda and make sure he's prepared. I write any speeches he needs to give, and I run errands for him," she said succinctly.

"Do you fill his prescriptions for him?" the Doctor pursued.

"Yes," she confirmed, a questioning tone to her voice.

"Can you confirm that he has a prescription for Calmo?" the Doctor continued.

"Yes, certainly. He and Mrs. Rudd both do. As does Mr. Fenn, as does Mr. Preston. There's nothing so odd about that." She was definitely on the defensive now.

"You understand that the murder victim was given a giant overdose of this drug, and you see nothing so odd about it?"

Ms. Zielinsky took a step back. "No, what I mean by that is, it wasn't Mr. Rudd. It could have been anyone, but it wasn't him." She was breathing heavily, almost panting for breath.

"You miss my meaning Ms. Zielinsky," the Doctor continued, "You were the last person to come into contact with the victim. You had access to both her and her drink while you were helping her into a chair, and you had access to the drug that killed her."

Ms. Zielinsky's breathing became more and more labored, and she didn't answer the accusation. Instead she held her fists clutched to her chest and croaked, "My atomizer. I need my—"

"Over here," Ms. Gregg called out. "You left it on the table."

Ms. Zielinsky rushed over to the table and pressed her atomizer against her face, breathing deeply several times. She looked back up at the Doctor with a relieved expression. "I didn't kill Mrs. Badcock," she said. She started coughing, and returned her face to the atomizer while she walked back over to them.

"I didn't really think you did, Ella. I just wanted to see for myself how much in love with Mr. Rudd you were," the Doctor said gently.

" _She what_?" Ms. Gregg cried out, straightening to her full height.

"No!" Ms. Zielinsky said, pulling the atomizer away from her face. She went into another coughing fit. When she pulled her hand away from her face there were specks of blood on it. She began coughing again, blood spraying out with every hacking breath. She collapsed against the Doctor and he lowered her gently to the floor. She went limp, and the atomizer rolled out of her lifeless hand.

The Doctor felt at her neck for a pulse, then put his ear close to her mouth. Finally he stood and pointed his sonic screwdriver at her. "She's dead." He bent and scooped up her atomizer. He wiped the inside of the mouthpiece with a finger, then rubbed it against his thumb. "Powder," he said. He touched his tongue to it and spat. "Calmo. She was murdered, Pandora. Right in front of me, and I couldn't stop it."

Pandora could see a rage on the Doctor's face, barely controlled, and it scared her. "Forget the cubes and the balance, Pandora. I need to see Mr. Rudd, Mr. Preston, Margot Bence and Ms. Gregg right now, out in the hall. Ms. Gregg, with me." The Doctor stormed out of the room, flinging the door open to bounce off the wall. He headed straight for the first room again.

Pandora followed him out, but stopped for the briefest of moments, watching the Doctor huff away with a worried expression on her face, then she turned and headed to the fourth room. She poked her head in. "Mr. Rudd, Mr. Preston, we need you out here." She left the door open and ran back to join the Doctor at the first room. She tried to think of anything to calm him down, but was drawing a blank.

The Doctor stepped inside the first room and looked around. "Ms. Bence, please step outside. Mr. Mayor, reverend, please remain here." He started to swing the door shut again, then noticed something and thew it wide again. "Where's Alpha?"

"We sent him out for you several minutes ago," Ms. Bence said. "I was thinking that if we could find a way to develop my film —"

"Alpha never came for me," the Doctor said dismissively. He went to the second room and opened the door. "Beta, have you seen Alpha?"

The Ood inclined his head slightly. The Doctor left the door open while he went to the third, fourth and fifth rooms. In each he asked the Ood if it had seen Alpha.

"Alright, everybody out!" he yelled over the sound of the raging storm outside. The rest of the party-goers emerged from their rooms, confused. "Ms. Zielinsky has been murdered, and now Alpha is missing! Ms. Gregg, Ms. Bence, you are with Pandora. Mr. Rudd, Mr. Preston, you are with me. The rest of you, form into groups and search the house. We must find Alpha!"

The Doctor pulled Pandora aside. "Watch Margot very closely," he whispered. "If she tries anything at all, be prepared to intervene." Then he ran off and grabbed Mr. Rudd and Mr. Preston by the shoulders, leading them out of the room.

* * *

The Doctor and his companions searched each room they came to, starting with a book-lined study, then on to a linen storage room and then the kitchen. They pulled open every cupboard and closet, poked through laundry carts and potato bushels. They searched in ovens, behind curtains and inside the walk-in freezer.

"Doctor," Mr. Rudd finally said. "Do you suppose Alpha wandered off while looking for you, or do you think something has happened to him?"

The Doctor frowned at him. "I'm trying not to think the latter, but it's difficult. I can't come up with a solid reason why Alpha would go off of his own accord."

"I hate to think of the poor Greek out there, defenseless with a murderer around," Mr Rudd continued, rolling up his sleeve and plunging it into a rubbish bin half-full of food scraps.

"I've narrowed down my list of suspects, and I don't think anyone has reason to hurt one of the… Greeks."

"Who do you suspect?" Mr. Rudd asked, shaking potato peels and coffee grounds off of his arm.

There was another loud crash of thunder. The Doctor looked up for a moment, a puzzled look on his face. "That's odd," he said.

A scream came from across the manor. Once again, the Doctor was off and running before anyone could react. The lights flickered as the Doctor ran full-tilt up the stairs. He paused at the landing, but heard no further screams. The rest of his group had time to catch up with him before the Doctor spotted an open door ahead and the shadow of a group of people within the room drawn onto the floor outside. He took off running again.

The Doctor got to the room just as Pandora's group got there from the other direction. He found the Mayor and his wife along with Mr. Fenn and Mrs. Bantry standing in the room in front of an open cupboard. Laying on the floor between them was the prone body of the Ood. The Doctor ran to the body and began examining it. He flipped the body over and saw immediately that the umbilical had been neatly sliced in half. He pulled a jeweler's loupe out of a pocket and looked at the cut very closely.

He turned and walked directly up to Pandora.

"Now, this is very important. Something has come up and we need to solve this murder immediately. Did you at any point suspect that Margot was trying to get Marina alone?"

"No, but…"

"Did you feel as if she was uncomfortable around you, that she wanted to get away, or get you away?"

"No," Pandora responded more definitively.

"What is the meaning of these questions?" Margot asked.

The Doctor ignored her. "And the three of you came running in here together. She had ample opportunity to try something if she wanted too, but she didn't."

"Just what on Earth are you talking about Doctor?" Marina demanded.

"I'm talking about measles, Ms. Gregg, German measles, to be exact." The rest of the groups had gathered there by this time. There were murmurs going through the crowd upon seeing the dead Ood.

The Doctor seemed terribly impatient. "I don't have time for this nonsense. I had narrowed the killer down to one of two people. Margot, who may have wanted to kill Marina, because she is her adoptive mother, and she abandoned her all those years ago, but it was clear Marina had no idea that Margot was her daughter."

Ms. Gregg looked in horror and sudden recognition at Margot. Margot returned her gaze with nothing but contempt. "But since Margot didn't try again to kill Marina at any point, then my original supposition must have been correct," the Doctor continued.

Mr. Rudd spoke up, "And your original supposition was…?"

"That your wife caused Mrs Badcock to spill her drink on purpose so as to hand her her own drink, the one that she herself had poisoned."

The Doctor turned to Mrs. Brady. "You said earlier that you thought 'she spilled her drink on purpose'. Due to the imprecise nature of the English language, I misunderstood at first. I thought you meant that Mrs. Badcock had spilled her own drink on purpose. But what you meant to say was that Ms. Gregg spilled Mrs. Badcock's drink on purpose!"

"Yes," Mrs. Brady confirmed. "That's exactly what it looked like."

"But that's preposterous," Mr. Rudd said. "What possible reason could Marina have had to want to kill a woman she didn't know?"

The Doctor sighed. "Fine. To understand that, we have to go back to the scene of the crime. To the landing at the top of the stairs!"

The Doctor took off running, and the group followed. When they arrived, the Doctor took Mr. Rudd by the shoulders and positioned him just so. "There. Now do you see?"

Mr. Rudd was flummoxed. "I'm afraid I don't know what I'm supposed to be seeing? Cause for murdering a stranger? No, Doctor I don't."

"But they weren't strangers! They had met before! Mrs. Badcock was bragging about it right here," the Doctor said and stood in Mrs. Badcock's spot, "how she had put on a lot of makeup despite the fact that she doesn't usually wear it, got herself out of bed and bravely went to see her idol the great Marina Gregg! What Marina realized while standing right here was that this was also a point in her life of great impact. Mrs. Badcock had had German measles, and she passed it on to your wife that day. But Marina was pregnant, and German measles, in the early stages of pregnancy, causes —"

Marina broke in. "Causes severe birth defects and brain disfunction." She was staring over the staircase at the painting there between the two windows.

The Doctor leaned in close to Mr. Rudd and pointed. And here she was, looking at a portrait of the Laughing Madonna and thinking of her own child. And she was standing face to face with a woman who had only been an idea until then. A mysterious figure that had somehow infected her and caused her child to go from a joyful gift to an unbearable curse. How many times do you think she'd imagined seeking out that figure, finding them somehow and murdering them? It never mattered, because it was fantasy, but suddenly, here and now, it was all _real_. The figure was before her, a real person, and she wasn't contrite in the least. She was bragging about it, about how sick she was that day. In your wife's mind, she practically said she did it on purpose. Your wife had plenty of Calmo on hand, and no time to think about things and cool down. Your wife killed Mrs. Badcock."

The Doctor stood back and let that sink in. Ms. Gregg was past the point of denying it. She actually seemed a bit relieved to have the truth out.

"But what of Miss Zielinsky?" Mrs. Bantry asked.

"She must have seen Marina put the pills in her own glass, or else purposely bump Mrs. Badcock. It was certain that someone would, given how many people were in the room, and how many eyes would be focused on the famous Marina Gregg. Miss Zielinsky decided unwisely to blackmail Marina, because she secretly loved her boss, Mr. Rudd, and she wanted Ms. Gregg out of the picture. And she ended up dead for her troubles. But none of this is important right now! It's distracting us from the true issue here."

"What could be more important than the issue of three murders?" the vicar called out.

"But that's just it! Surely you have constables, or someone who can take over now that the murderer is discovered. I'm no longer interested in that. The fact is, Marina had no reason to kill Alpha. He was a loyal and attentive servant. Even if he had seen something, he never would have betrayed her."

"What are you saying, Doctor?"

"I'm stating the obvious. We have a second murderer in our midst."


	3. The Mastermind

"Mr Rudd, please find an appropriate room and lock your wife inside," the Doctor said. "Gently though. I don't think she's a threat. Everyone else go back to your rooms. We'll have more to discuss shortly. Pandora, please stay."

The others filed out of the room, and Pandora shut the door behind them. She turned to find the Doctor laying the Ood out on the floor.

"Now, why would anyone want to kill an Ood?" the Doctor asked as he examined the body. He felt up and down the torso, then lifted the oral tentacles. He checked the neck on both sides, but found no cuts or bruises. He sat back on his haunches, dissatisfied. He looked up at Pandora. "That was not rhetorical."

"I don't know," she responded. Pandora stood well away from the Doctor and the Ood, and focused on the painting over the bed. "You said they are loyal creatures. Maybe he got in the way. Prevented the killer from doing… something else."

The Doctor shook his head. "Not likely. They are loyal, but they are also docile. He'd have stood by and watched unless commanded to do something."

"Well, maybe that's enough. Maybe he saw the killer doing something, and was murdered to keep him… I was going to say 'silent', but you know what I mean," Pandora suggested.

"Hmm," the Doctor said. He knelt close to the ground and examined the lie of the carpet, then lifted the Ood's legs and looked at the back of his shoes. "A decent theory, but he wasn't murdered somewhere else and then dragged in here. So either he was convinced to come along, or the thing he saw was in this room."

The two looked around the room for evidence of disturbance. Pandora skirted the body twice in her search before finally saying something. "Doctor, could we cover up the body? You may have gotten used to seeing dead things, but it is seriously creeping me out."

The Doctor came over to Pandora and held her arms gently while looking deep into her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I still need access to his body. I'm afraid I'm going to have to go through his pockets. If he wasn't killed because he was an Ood, perhaps he was killed because he was a servant. Servants have surprising access, and maybe something was taken from him. If you'd like to step outside though, I can finish up without you."

Pandora swallowed. "No, Doctor. It's okay. Just… let's be quick." She forced herself to look at the body.

The Doctor let go of her. He could see how distracted her mind was, and he left her to come to terms with the body while he concluded his search. He ended up by searching the cupboard that Ood Alpha had been stuffed into. "Nothing," he reported. "If anything was taken, it isn't conspicuous in its absence."

He looked up at Pandora, who was still staring at the face of the dead Ood, then he knelt down beside the body, purposely blocking her view. He felt through its pockets, but produced nothing other than a pencil and a pad of paper. He held it up to the light, then laid the pencil at an angle and gently rubbed at the paper. Writing began to appear, but the Doctor stopped. "Drink orders," he said, and tossed the pad and pencil onto the bed.

He stood up. "Okay, we can do this now." He turned and pulled a plain white sheet from the cupboard and shook it out.

"Wait. You said you were looking for something missing," Pandora said.

"Yes. And I found it. The Ood should have a key on him, or at least I'd expect he should —"

"His brain, Doctor. Alpha was killed by slicing through that umbilical thingy, but whoever did it took the brain.

The Doctor took another look at the body, then closed his eyes in exasperation. "Of course! How did I miss that? Pandora you are a genius, do you know that? Here, let's cover him up."

* * *

Once they were done with the body, they stepped out into the hall. "When we find the lock that fits the missing key, we'll find our killer. We need to speak to Marina Gregg."

"Why would she want to talk to us after you told everyone she murdered two people?" Pandora asked.

The Doctor turned to face her. "I have this theory about humanity. I think that very few of you are truly evil. I've seen you do a lot of very bad things, but most of the time, it's because you are made to feel like you have no other choice, or that you are in fact, doing the right thing. I think that most of you will leap at a shot for some sort of redemption, and I'm going to give Marina a chance to prove me right." He turned on his heel, and Pandora followed closely behind.

Just then, there was another bright flash outside, and the loudest boom of thunder yet. The lights went out entirely, and Pandora could suddenly feel the darkness press upon her claustrophobically. Each shadow they passed seamed to conceal the murderer. She grabbed hold of the Doctor's arm and clung to it like a lifeline.

"It's alright, Pandora," the Doctor whispered. "I've just the thing." He pulled out his sonic, and the end blazed into a cone of brilliant white light. "This way," he said, and led them off to see Marina.

At the room where she was being kept, the tip of the Doctor's sonic briefly changed to red, and the lock on the door clicked. The Doctor pushed the door open and shone the light around. "Marina?" he called out. He received no answer. He pointed the beam of light at the other door, the only other exit from the room, but it stood secure. "Pandora?" he said, and she went to the door, knowing what he was going to ask.

She jiggled the handle and turned back toward him, shaking her head. "Still locked."

He pointed the torch around the room and settled on some curtains. He crossed the room stealthily and ripped them aside, but no one was behind them. He scanned the room again, and from this perspective his torch beam caught Marina's white arm draped over the side of the couch, a pill bottle spilling from her limp fingers.

The Doctor and Pandora both rushed to her. The Doctor knelt and ran the blue light of his sonic over her body. "Another Calmo overdose. Oh, Marina," he said softly.

"Doctor, look at her face," Pandora said. The light on the end of his sonic switched back to white and he shone it on her face. Despite the calming nature of the drug she took, she had a look of anxiety or even fear in her expression.

"She may have had some help taking her final dose," the Doctor shone his light at the two doors. "By someone with a key." He stood up and headed for the door they'd come in through.

Pandora lagged behind. "We need to tell her husband," she said.

The Doctor turned. "That's the last thing we need to do. More distraction. Mr. Rudd will be too focused on his dead wife to help us catch her killer. Mrs. Bantry owned the manor before the Rudd's. We should speak with her."

The Doctor turned and left the room. Pandora hesitated, taking another worried look at the dead woman before hurrying to catch up to the Doctor's bobbing torch beam.

The Doctor poked his head into the room where Mrs. Bantry was sitting with the others. "Mrs. Bantry, a moment outside, please?"

Once she joined them out in the hallway, the Doctor questioned her in hushed tones. "Mrs. Bantry, I believe the murderer is after the ship that crashed here thirty years ago. I need you to tell me about that night, specifically, who here was present that night?"

"Oh, most everyone. Not the Americans, naturally, nor the photographers or the newspaper man, but let's see. My husband and I, the mayor and his wife, the vicar, Mrs. Brady and her husband, oh and poor Mrs. Badcock of course, but she was just Miss Templeton back then."

"Just Mrs. Badcock, not Arthur?" the Doctor asked. "Where was Mr. Badcock at the time?"

"Oh, Mr. Badcock didn't live on the island back then. In fact, he wasn't even called Badcock. He lived in America under another name. What was it? Oh, yes. Alfred Beadle. I remember because he kept the initials the same."

The Doctor tore at his hair and started pacing. "Alfred Beadle!" he said loudly.

"Wait," Pandora said, "Mr. Badcock was Marina Gregg's first husband?"

Mrs. Bantry smiled as one would to a young child who just asked about leprechauns. "No deary, surely not."

"Oh, he most certainly was, and he planned this whole thing," the Doctor said. "I don't know if he necessarily wanted his wife dead, but he did want the distraction of a murder investigation, and he wanted to be sure he wasn't suspected so that he would be free to move about on his own! Oh, how thick I've been! He _encouraged_ his wife to tell her story to Ms. Gregg! Having been married to her in the past, he knew how she would react! We left him to grieve, and all the time he had full access to the house. He killed Alpha and took his key to gain access to restricted areas of the manor… And his brain… for some reason." He trailed off, thinking hard. "But what about Marina? Why would he kill her?"

He pondered this for a while, neither Pandora nor Mrs. Bantry offering any insight. "Of course! Alfred Beadle was an estate agent! With Marina out of the way, the manor would go on the market again and he would have access to it. And not just the manor, but the ship buried below it!"

The Doctor turned. "Mrs. Bantry, this is important: Did Mr. Badcock handle the sale when you moved out of the manor?"

"It's a small village, Doctor. He's our only estate agent."

"He found something the last time he had the run of the manor! It may have taken him a while to figure out what it was, but once he did, he wanted more. He wants that ship and he's willing to kill to get it. Mrs. Bantry, I need you to lead us to the entrance to the ship."

* * *

Mrs. Bantry lead them down into the cellar. "I don't know why you want to come down here, I tell you, the entrance to the ship was walled up."

"I'd just like to verify that personally."

When they got there though, the stone work on one end lay broken and tumbled down. "I remember earlier there was a crash of thunder that shook the house, but there was no flash of lightning. In fact, it wasn't thunder, we'd just heard so much of it that we all assumed it was. No one paid the explosion any attention." He shone his torch light through the opening. "The ship's door is open. Thank you Mrs. Bantry, we'll take it from here. Please get upstairs where it's safe."

The Doctor stepped over the rubble and walked up the ramp to start his exploration. "Stay close, Pandora."

She joined him, and held onto the hem of his hoodie so she'd be close, but he'd have both hands free.

"Do you feel that vibration?" the Doctor asked. Pandora could indeed feel a deep thrumming vibration coming up through the floor grates in regular waves. "The engines are running. Someone's getting ready to fly her," he continued.

There were odd noises in the dark of the ship, constantly causing them to jump. The Doctor finally opened an access panel and looked behind it. "The ship is performing self-repairs. Surely it hasn't taken thirty years to complete… Mr. Badcock must have set them off when he found the ship two months ago." He set down the panel cover and continued searching the ship. Another corridor lead them to a larger room, with a round tiered pillar of a console in its center. Unlike the Tardis console, this one had no obvious controls on its surface, except for a pair of recessed five-fingered handprints.

Pandora walked slowly toward them. She looked down at her own hand, then again at the prints on the console. "I wonder if…" she said, and reached out to place her hands against the prints.

The Doctor caught her arm. "I wouldn't. Do you see that flakey residue? Burnt skin." Pandora could see it now, and pulled her hands away, a disgusted look on her face.

The Doctor poked at the burnt skin with his sonic. "I'm betting Mr. Badcock had the same instinct to touch the controls as you did." He straightened up and shown the beam of his sonic around the rest of the room. "Ohhhhh. This is a Grok slaving ship. They must have had a field day with the Ood."

"A _slaving_ ship? You've still got slaves out there in the universe?" Pandora asked, pulling even further away. "I always imagined the rest of the universe would be more advanced than us."

"Some parts of it, yes. The Grok are an offshoot of the Ogron that got stuck for generations on a silicate planet and developed low-level telepathic abilities. Too bad it didn't help with their intelligence much or change their warlike ways. I'll bet when this ship found Ood Sphere, the Ood just lined up and buckled themselves into the slave harnesses."

The Doctor led her down a corridor lined with doors. He looked back at Pandora with a terribly sad look in his eyes. "You're not going to like this bit, but I have to see." He used his sonic on a door lock, and the door hissed upward. Inside there was a row of five prison seats, each with a skeleton strapped to it. "The ship was full of hundreds of Ood. Mrs. Bantry and her husband only found the one pod of five before burying the ship, and the rest just died down here in confinement."

Pandora turned and ran back out, into the control room. When the Doctor rejoined her there, she found she couldn't stand the look in his eyes, so she changed the subject back to Mr. Badcock. "So he put his hands on the controls and it burnt him, and somehow started the self-repair?"

"Almost," the Doctor said. "The controls are psychic. You only touch the console to signal your intention to interface. The computer woke up and tried to initiate contact with him, but his mind wasn't capable, so it changed him. Probably took months. But it didn't just give him low-level psychic abilities, enough to interface. No, it made him more Grok-like. And once the changes were complete, he felt the compulsion to come back. This ship has a mission to complete, and it needs a pilot."

"Very good, Doctor," said a voice from behind them. Pandora gasped and grabbed at the Doctor as the two of them turned. "You've figured almost everything out. And now, if you don't mind, you are standing in my way."

Arthur Badcock was standing behind them. In one hand he held a nasty looking gun, pointed at them. In the other hand, he held Alpha's orb, the umbilical ending in a bandaged and bloody spot at his left temple.

"Oh, Arthur. What have you done?" the Doctor asked.

"I've been improving. My life has been about self-improvement and trading up. When I met Marina Gregg, I saw her potential and I married her. But she left me, and all the money I'd invested in her meant nothing. I thought it was over for me until this place came on the market. I'd heard the stories of the manor and its inhabitants, but I finally had a chance to see it for myself. The Grok might not be very smart, but I am," Mr. Badcock said, stepping forward. "The ship gave me all the information I need to fly her, but it had a lot more in its databanks, including medical scans of the Ood. It took a while to process, and before I understood what it all meant for me, I'd sold the manor to my ex, and I had to manufacture another excuse to get back here. As you said, the Grok are low-level psychics, but the Ood have true potential. With the help of the ship's medical nanites, I've traded up. And now, with a whole galaxy of possibilities out there, I'm going to trade up, right off of this backward little planet."

"You could have gotten away with it all," the Doctor said, holding back anger. "You could have let Marina Gregg take the blame for everything. The murder of your wife and Ms. Zielinsky; you could have taken the ship and left before anybody knew you were really behind it. But you made a big mistake. You killed an Ood. And now I'm going to stop you."

"Stop me? No Doctor, you'll be coming _with_ me. I don't know who you are, but I'm certain you are not from this world, and I'm willing to bet that you'll go for a high price in the Grok slave pits." He shifted the gun slightly in his hand to point more fully at Pandora. "Her, I won't need though."

The Doctor moved quickly to stand in the way. "Touch one hair on her head, and it will be the biggest regret of your life."

Mr. Badcock chuckled. "You see? You can be incented to cooperate. Now, keep that in mind before you threaten me again."

Two by two, red eyes appeared out of the darkness around them. The four remaining Ood stepped out into the dome of light provided by the Doctor's sonic. They proceeded toward the Doctor and Pandora, holding their orbs out threateningly.

The Doctor and Pandora quickly found themselves separated. "What do I do, Doctor?" Pandora yelled, backing away.

"Don't let them touch you with their orbs!" he yelled back, looking for an opening to get back to her. She backed away, but the only space she had to go to was the open slave pen. One of the Ood touched the door panel with his orb and the door hissed shut.

The Doctor started yelling at Mr. Badcock. "That is not how you gain my cooperation. These are human beings, Arthur! Your wife? Marina? Ella? You may not have meant to kill her, but I still hold you responsible. Don't their deaths mean anything to you? Now you are locking Pandora away and threatening her? Isn't there some part of you that still feels a connection to your species? Don't you even miss feeling that loss?"

"You'd think I would, wouldn't you, Doctor? But I've advanced beyond that."

"Then I'm sorry for you, Arthur. I am so, so, sorry. Because lack of compassion is not advancement. You are devolving. Reverting to your base instincts. You are becoming more like a Grok," the Doctor said.

Mr. Badcock sneered. "Yes Doctor, I am. Those last two months of my life, listening to my wife thinking, it was almost more than I could bear. Those inane, meaningless thoughts. And so repetitive. The songs running through her mind. And I began to wonder, 'Dear god, was _I_ once like this?' I realized how different I was. How much _better_ I was. And everyone was the same. So juvenile. And so easily manipulated. It is so easy to tell people what they want to hear when they tell you what that is. And then I realized that I could suggest things to them, and the next thing I knew they were saying it. I got us invited here today. I arranged my wife's murder, I got enough privacy to get back into the ship. But the Ood were a surprise. I could hear them too, only they weren't like the humans. Their thoughts were neat and orderly. They only thought what they meant to think. I realized that they were stronger than even me. The ship called to me and told me that I could be as strong as them, so I killed Alpha. And now I'm faced with you. You are different. I sense your strength, but I can't hear your thoughts. And you can't hear mine, can you, Doctor?"

The Doctor stared at Mr. Badcock, impotent anger in his eyes. "No," he finally admitted.

Mr. Badcock smiled. "As it should be." He walked up to the Doctor, staring him down, until the Doctor finally stepped aside. Mr. Badcock put the gun down on top of the console, and placed one hand on the control pad. The hum of the engines grew in volume. He walked toward a panel on the wall and touched it. The ship's lights came on.

He turned his head back toward the Doctor, then followed his gaze to the gun he had left within arms reach of him. A confident smile came over Arthur's face. "I can make you do what I want, Doctor. Do you doubt that? I can force the Ood to hurt themselves. I can force them to hurt Pandora. I can make that their last command. 'If anything happens to me, kill the girl.' Would you shoot me, Doctor? Would you shoot them when they carried out my command through no choice of their own? Or perhaps I'm wrong, and you too can be Grok-like when you need to."

He turned and opened his arms wide to expose his chest to a shot that both of them knew wasn't coming.

"Then, you've missed your chance. You will do what I say, and you will return with me to the Grok homeworld and you and she will become slaves, because you will always believe there's a chance of escape, and any chance is better than the finality of death."

The Doctor's shoulders slumped. "Okay. You win. I'll go with you. I'll even help." He walked up to a panel on the far wall and pressed his hand against it. The exterior ramp retracted and the doors shut. Mr. Badcock watched him with amusement.

He returned to stand in front of Mr. Badcock, hands in his pockets. "Of course, that's not what I would do, if I were you."

Mr. Badcock laughed. "Oh, really? And just what would you do, Doctor?"

"Well, think about it. If you went back to Grokmore, do you think they'd really accept you there? Just because you think like them doesn't mean they'd see you as one of their kind. You look so different, and you have that brain hanging out the side of your head. No, they'd as likely enslave you as well. And besides, why would you leave a planet like Earth behind? You are now the most powerful mind it's ever produced! Why aren't you running this place? This ship is basically a big old psychic amplifier! With a mind like yours, nations would bow to you! What desires could you possibly have that couldn't be gratified here with the entire world and its population at your disposal? Marina is forever beyond your reach now, but Lola could be yours, and a hundred others, each more beautiful than the last. If it were me, I'd put both hands on those controls right there, and just reach out. Touch every mind on this planet and bend it to my will."

The Doctor stepped back, letting his words hang in the air.

Dawning understanding spread across Mr. Badcock's face. "I could, couldn't I?" He approached the controls, looking at the hand prints there that still contained a bit of his burnt skin. A reminder of what the ship had already given him, a promise of what else it still could. "With just a little boost, I could touch them all. I could rule them all."

He reached out, and placed both hands on the palm print controls. Green light blazed from beneath each hand, and the light level of the ship increased. The Doctor backed away.

"I can feel them," Mr. Badcock said, closing his eyes. "The mansion was easy. They are all mine. The village too. They look to me for direction. The whole of the West Country now… and all of England too." His lips parted in a smile that turned into a short involuntary laugh. Then a look of concentration came over him. "France now." His breathing became forced. "Ireland! Germany! Scandinavia!" he began shouting.

He fell to his knees, but maintained his grip on the control. "More! More! I can… New York, St. Petersburg, Washington, Moscow!" His eyes sprung open. "The launch codes!" He forced them shut again. "More! I will have it all!" His breathing was ragged. He stopped his narration, and instead began making guttural sounds that sounded a bit like he was trying to say 'more'. His head slumped forward and still he made those sounds. Blood began to drip from his nose and eyes. Slowly his breathing normalized, and his hands released from the controls. He fell over onto the grating, curling up into a fetal position.

The Doctor watched him for several minutes with a look of pity.

When he finally snapped out of it, the Doctor pulled his sonic from his pocket and ran to the slave cell. His sonic buzzed, and the door to the cell slid open. Pandora rushed out and hugged the Doctor.

"It's okay, Pandora. It's all going to be okay," the Doctor said comfortingly.

Pandora buried her face in the crook of the Doctor's neck. "I know it is, Spaceman. I always knew it was going to be. You're the one who looked like you could use a hug."

The Doctor chuckled and blinked several times. He buried his own face in Pandora's hair and hugged her just a bit more tightly. "And you were right," he said.

He disengaged and walked back to the ship console. He stowed his sonic in his hoodie pocket and placed both hands on the controls. The hum of the ship's engines died down and stopped. The lights went out. The doors to the ship slid open, and the ramp extended.

Pandora looked cautiously at the Ood, who were just standing around. Their eyes had returned to normal, and Pandora carefully stepped around them to stand next to the Doctor. She looked down at Mr. Badcock. "Is he…?" She'd seen so much death today that she couldn't bear to say the word.

"Dead?" the Doctor finished for her. "No, Pandora. But he'll never be the same. He was right. The Ood are powerful psychics, but they are psychic _receptors_. They weren't built to be projectors; controllers. He reached his mind out, trying to touch every human on the planet, thinking he could control them all, but he was just letting them in. It was too much for his human brain, and he overloaded."

The Doctor knelt and put one hand on Mr. Badcock's shoulder. Arthur began to stir. The Ood came around to stand beside him as the Doctor helped him to his feet. Beta pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped Arthur's nose, and the corners of his eyes.

The Doctor had a silent exchange with the Ood, and nodded. "It's fitting, in a way. He's changed his name before, but kept the same initial."

Pandora studied Mr. Badcock's placid face, then she understood. "Alpha," she breathed.

"If Mr. Rudd will have him," the Doctor confirmed.

Mr. Badcock inclined his head slightly.

* * *

The Doctor and Pandora got to the front doors of Gossington Hall, and the Doctor unlocked them with his sonic. Water dripped from the eaves, but the storm had passed. A smear of yellow haze at the horizon pointed to dawn's approach. Pools of water dotted the lawn, reflecting the dark sky above. The low rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, having moved on to the mainland.

"Shouldn't we say goodbye?" Pandora asked. They're all still locked away in their rooms, aren't they?"

"I find it's best if we don't. The ambulance will be here shortly, and probably the police with them. They'll sort it out. It's time I get you home. You don't want your mum to miss you."

They crossed the lawn and the Doctor opened the Tardis. Obelix perked up and stood, stretching out. Pandora ran across the console room and passed by him to pick up her box. She turned it around and checked it from all angles.

The Doctor went to Obelix and knelt next to him. He scratched him all over with both hands, and pulled his face toward his own. Obelix let out a little whine.

"Yes, I guess I did promise you. But you wouldn't have liked a stodgy old party like that. The next one is one hundred percent you. No excuses," the Doctor said.

Obelix sneezed and shook himself. He wandered over and picked up his food bowl.

"I've got it," Pandora said and snatched the bowl out of his mouth. She ran off toward the galley. "'Any food I can come up with,' you said, right?"

"Right," the Doctor confirmed. The Doctor watched her disappear into the galley with her box in one hand and the dog bowl in the other. He flipped a switched and the Tardis doors shut. Then he flipped several more and pressed the monitor button. A three dimensional representation of Pandora's box spun above the console. He watched it for several moments, then looked toward the galley and switched off the image. He plunged the telegraph lever forward, and the crystal column at the center of the console began to rise and fall to the grinding sound of the Tardis engine.


End file.
